Month: August 2013

Keep-up

Sometimes it seems that the universe
(or fate or some other ethereal force)
is against me.
Hard days compounded by bad luck
seem to suggest
that I’m doing it wrong:
I have chosen poorly.
I suspect It’s meant to serve
as a gentle nudge
in the right direction.
I have been ignoring the nudging.
It has turned to body blows,
but still I am dumb to its advice.
It has come to the point that it always does:
No one to blame
but myself.
So now the days grow more numb,
or I numb to them,
and I listen for for the voice,
the informed nudge of fate,
and all that is left
is the dull static
of the background of life.
Fate has moved on
a left me to my idiocy.

Velocipedes

A couple pass by on bikes,

chatting easily.

Their voices carry through

the dense evening air

to my perch on the porch.

I am sipping a beer

and they glide on by.

I like that they are out there

moving like wind-caught leaves

through the ether

of the neighborhood.

I am gladdened at the sight of them

and happy not to be

anywhere but on this porch

finishing this beer.

Proofed

And when their gods had shown them

the simplicity

of cheese,

and the simplicity

of bread

and the function of the seasons

(as they related to their crops)

he gave unto them

the simplicity of beer…

…and nothing was simple again…

it was awesome.

Now life had begun,

and in that simple act

it had become

all that they had ever hoped for

and all that they had feared…

and all-of-that

was

all-at-the-once.

So it is now

and so we raise a toast

lest we ever know

the hollowness of

what it was

before.

Cultured

Surely the first who stumbled upon it

were baffled and confused

as their bounty transformed

and became more rigid

and firm.

But soon they learned

how to replicate

this awesome accident

and so it was borne

unto humanity.

Certainly

(they concurred)

this is proof of some form of god,

and he wishes us good-tidings.

This absolute manna,

hidden in simple milk:

this glory,

this unending sweetness,

this cheese.

Who knew?

I don’t know how I fit with people.
I find it strange to know
that people know me.
How do I handle this?
To be seen, and known
does it mean they possess me
too?
I am made uncomfortable
in this “being known”.
It carries over
to my family too,
my wife as well.
They know me,
but what do they know
and
would I want to know
what it is
that they think they know
about me?
Probably best
not to know,
ya’ know?

Creepin’

The days and weeks

just creep

        and creep.

 Now even repeat

   is on repeat.

I cannot tell

   from the calendar date

  which specific

day

is go…

  or wait.

So in a blur

  I commit a crime

in this crushing

        passing

 of my stolen time.